A Hundred Empty Spaces
by Beneficia
Summary: “Because if there’s one gorram person in this verse who knows anything about Alliance secrets, and might be in a position to make your sister less crazy it’d be her!” Mal shouted, pointing at Buffy, as he got right in Simon’s face.
1. Bad Day

Title: Bad Day

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: For the TTH 100, prompt 022: Space

There was no space to move, no space to breathe. The chains they had wrapped her in were tight and strong and fastened securely to the heavy lead box they put her in. Her legs and arms were bound together behind her, and would have been severely uncomfortable if she didn't have other pains blocking it out.

The chains bit into her abused flesh, sending sharp pains wherever the constricted around a deep bruise or laceration. Buffy would have been gasping and heaving if her chest hadn't been so constricted that it took all her effort just to not pass out from lack of oxygen.

A part of her was glad for the pain. It distracted her from the fact that she was trapped in a box half the size of the coffin she woke up in after Willow brought her back. The pain kept her mind sane and kept her thoughts from dwelling on the fact that, wherever she was being carried to, they were probably planning on burying her alive once they got their.

She should have known better than to save them from the reavers. The people on this moon were nice, peaceful and caring, so long as you stayed out of their religion and went along with their customs. Because they had taken her in, she had ignored the fact that back on Earth-That-Was they would have probably been considered a cult.

Despite being suspicious of her and her mysterious arrival, they had given her a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear, and did their best to help her become self sufficient. And despite them constantly trying to convert her, she generally got along with them well enough and tried to respect their beliefs.

Of course that had all changed once they saw her kill an entire raiding party of reavers.

She hadn't been able to save everybody; she hadn't even been able to distract enough of them to make them all pause in their atrocities. There were so many of them and they were so spread out, it took hours to end it. But she hadn't stopped fighting until every last one was dead, and their ship a burning wreck.

Only then did Buffy allow herself to pass out, her last conscious thoughts avoiding how many human beings she had just killed, and focusing instead on how long it would take for her to bleed to death.

That is if all those darts she had taken didn't kill her with poison first.

When she woke up, she was tied up in the county jail, though someone had at least been kind enough to wrap a few of the more major wounds. Before her delirium took over she overheard the townspeople shouting outside her cell. She only barely got a few phrases, "… sent from God", "Demon!" "…saved us all!", "…can't be human", "…of witchcraft!", but she understood.

Waking up in the box,Buffy realized it really had been too much to hope for that they would decide she was an angel instead of the other thing.

Lousy ingrates.

A jolt, and the box they were carrying her in stopped. Fresh waves of pain washed over her and she fought back the rising panic and horror that threatened to overwhelm her.

She heard raised voices, too muffled to make out, but sounding like an argument.

Buffy allowed herself one moment of wild hope that maybe they had changed their minds about the whole Let's-go-bury-the-demon thing, before she felt them swinging the box as if to throw her loose, and she tried to remember if there were any canyons or pits near the town.

They let her go; the box flew threw the air for only a second, and then landed hard on what sounded like metal. Buffy bit back a cry at the pain, and then blackness swallowed her.

Author's Note: This is my first fic; constructive criticism welcome.

If you're so inclined, please leave a review.


	2. Another Bad Day

Title: Another Bad Day

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 009. Writing

"What do you think is in it Cap'n?" Kaylee asked with slight trepidation as she watched the dull metal box warily.

This is what he got for tryin' to help people. Ya'd think he'da learned after the war.

They had been nearing Tripon, when it got hit by reavers. Didn't know of it 'til after it was over and their distress beacon was calling for any medical help they could get. No Alliance in the area, not even many smugglers this far out. They had the only doctor within four days on board.

Of course, if the settlers had specified it was reavers that done the harming, he'd a turned Serenity around and gotten as far away from where those _tian sha de e mo_ had been as fast as his ship could fly.

Reavers were not known to leave survivors; if there was folk still alive on that planet, likely the reavers were coming back.

But they hadn't known, not til they were directly hovering over what had most definitely once been a reaver ship, surrounded by what looked like the remains of its crew.

If it hadn't been for the folks staggering outta the town looking at Serenity as if it was sent by God himself, he mighta still turned around. As it was, he had landed.

The doc had spent nearly three days without sleeping. Or eating; anything that he had eaten that first day came up pretty quickly after seeing some of the children.

Mal had never seen reaver victims that were still living; never wanted to see any ever again. Kaylee had stayed on board after just gettin' a look at the town from the cockpit, mostly keeping to the engine room; Wash he had ordered to keep an eye on the sky, and Jayne mainly stayed in the mess, his whole array of guns in front him, claiming they needed cleaning. Inara was keeping care of a sedated River in her shuttle while the doc was gone. He and Zoe helped Simon, Book helped bury the dead.

At first, Mal hadn't been too pushy on the subject of how the townsfolk had fought off a reaver culling. But the fact that there didn't seem to be nary a weapon in anyone's hand, and that everyone he asked had clammed up tighter than a drum had him more than a might concerned after three days. He was getting off this rock as soon as Simon finished doing what he could. Or collapsed from exhaustion, whichever came first.

When those that would die had died, and those that would live were patched up as best as he could, Simon came back on board. Kaylee had gently put her arm around his bloodied shirt and helped him back to the quarters to get a shower.

It was then that the townsfolk had started paying them. Just started showing up with everything from chickens to real coin. He had tried to stop them, though half-heartedly. They kept coming in one's and two's and small groups, setting their offerings in the cargo hold and giving weird blessings to him and his crew. A few, though, got this desperate look in their eyes when addressing him and asked him to, "take care of her. Please", in almost whispers as they tried to not be seen by the others.

Whatever in the gorram guay that meant.

The bad feeling in the pit of his gut got worse when four solidly built men came carrying a large metal box from its corners; especially when he saw the other settlers parting like water and crossing themselves as it passed.

Mal began to have words with them carrying the box when he discovered there were a might few more weapons in that town than he had thought. The town magistrate, the head religious honcho of the place, made it quite clear that Serenity wasn't leaving without taking that box with it. So, Mal stepped aside as two of the men actually swung and threw the thing on board, before hastily stepping back and crossing themselves.

Mal only half listened to the Magistrate go on about God's will and God's judgment deciding something. He was preoccupied tryin to figure out what in the sphincter of hell could a town that had just got ravaged by reavers be so damn afraid of.

But then the Magistrate and all his folk started backing away, and Mal didn't lose any time closing the doors and telling Wash to get them in the air as soon as possible.

Which left him here, listening to Serenity break atmo, and staring intently at a small, ominous box that had him itching to draw his gun.

Of course, that's when Jayne had to open his mouth, "Ya think it might be gold?"

**AN: **Reviews are apparently good for my muse. And really bad for my sleep.

I think I mentioned welcoming constructive criticism; I amend that to say I welcome any criticism. I'm trying to be a better writer, and I would prefer reviews that mention something that can be improved upon.


	3. Decision Theory

Title: Decision Theory

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 089. Exclamation

"What?" said Jayne, when Mal, Zoe, and Kaylee kept starin' at him at him.

"How could you figure gold?" Kaylee asked, turning from him to look at the box.

"Well," he answered sweeping his hand to gesture at the crowded cargo bay, "they already done give us half of all they probably owned." He pushed himself off of where he had been leaning against the rails, and walked over to the box, " 'Sides, I heard it when it landed." He kicked the box a few inches across the grating.

"Jayne!" Mal and Zoe both yelled. He ignored them, "sounds like a heap a' some kind of metal bangin' around in there." He grinned up at them as he crouched down in front of the box, "wanna give me a hand openin' it?"

"We are not opening that thing Jayne," Mal said forcibly, "It's goin' out the airlock right now." He went on as he walked over to the door controls and opened the inner airlock, "Zoe, you help Jayne get that thing over here."

"What!" Jayne said jumping up. "What do you wanna go and do that for?"

"It's not gold, Jayne." Zoe responded patiently, going over to one side of the box and looking for a descent grip. The thing had no handles; the townsfolk had held the bottom four corners, and it had landed on one side when they threw it.

"It might," Jayne asserted, "What else would they 'a' given us?" Mal just turned to glare at him while rolling up his sleeves. Jayne then got that greedy light in his eyes, "Maybe it's better than gold. Maybe they…"

Mal cut him off, "And maybe you ought to stop tryin' to think so hard afore ya hurt yourself. I aint payin' you to stand around and gab." Mal moved over to Zoe and bent down beside her, "Now get over here and help get this gorram thing off my boat."

Jayne started to walk toward them with a sour, disgruntled look on his face.

Then the box, or rather whatever was inside the box, moved. Mal and Zoe were just getting grips on it, when clear as day, the sound of metal hitting metal came from inside it.

Kaylee let out a short shriek and jumped back. Before she had seen them move, Mal and Zoe had jumped several feet back, and they and Jayne had their guns trained on the box.

"What was that?" Kaylee asked wide-eyed.

"Probably nothing," Zoe replied steadily, "We probably just jostled something that was loose." She didn't relax her stance or lower her gun, but she looked questioningly at Mal.

Then the box banged again.

And again.

The four of them stood there in tense silence as something metal hit a side of the box every five or so seconds.

"Alright," swallowing thickly, Jayne spoke up after the fifth thud, "I say we get some rope, loop it around that thing, and move it into the airlock from a safe distance."

Thud.

"Just what I was about to say," Mal answered, "Zoe…"

"Somethin's alive in there," Kaylee interrupted worriedly. "Shouldn't we help it?"

Thud. This one seemed louder.

"Anything alive that would have a whole town just hit by Reavers scared out of their wits is not something I wanna meet," Mal responded quickly.

Thud.

"Zoe, see if we still got them harpoon things from the Baxly job." She nodded sharply and turned to leave.

Thud.

"But what if it's a person?" Kaylee spoke up loudly.

Jayne answered just as loudly, "Box is too damn small for…"

Thud. Thud. Two loud ones in a row quckly sounded out. They all stopped to stare at it.

A thought occurred to Zoe, "Sir," she said, turning to Mal, "It's too small for an adult, but…"

THUD. THUD. THUD.

Talk and movement stopped. Silence reigned in the cargo bay as everyone tensed and waited.

But whatever was banging inside had stopped.

"Take care of her." Mal whispered remembering. Zoe, having heard several of the townsfolk addressing Mal said, "You think this is what they were talking about?"

"Seems to fit," he replied, "still doesn't explain why most of them were actin' so gorram scared," he said to himself as he slowly approached the box, but still keeping his gun trained on it.

"They weren't exactly what I would call rational people sir." Zoe said moving around the box. "That magistrate was going on about God deciding some sort of fate. Maybe this is their alternative to burning at the stake."

"Well whatever it is, it ain't our problem." Jayne declared. "I say we still throw it out, just to be sure."

"Jayne!" Kaylee admonished, "There could be a child in there, sick or injured."

"Or maybe it's a bomb, or a reaver, or some person or thing ridden with a plague, or somethingelse that'll get us killed right quick," Jayne growled at her, before turning to Mal hefting his gun, "We still don't know how those crazies survived that Reaver attack, or how they took out the entire raiding party. Whatever's in that box, it came from them, and they certainly weren't too keen on tellin' us what it was."

Mal listened to him silently before turning to look at Zoe across the box. "He does have a point sir," she admitted quietly after a moment.

"Cap'n!" Kaylee pleaded. "Ain't you been listening girl," Jayne said turning to her, "we ain't…"

"Bee jway!" Mal shouted.

They quieted; the three of them stood there looking at him, waiting for his decision. He watched the box.

"So I hear we got some nice presents," Wash announced his presence walking down the stairs from the cockpit. Everyone but Mal turned to look at him, wearing serious expressions on their faces. He slowed when he saw the four of them standing about the box in a circle with three guns drawn. "Or maybe not so nice presents," he amended, "What's in the box guys?"

They all turned back to Mal. He looked up, decision made. "We're about to find out. Zoe…"

**AN:** The title references the weightiness of Mal's decision. Merrimam Webster defines defines Decision Theory as "A branch of statistical theory concerned with quantifying the process of making choices between alternatives." Anyway, I thought it was cool and apropos.

You guys also might wanna know that I write these things in one sitting, and I post them as soon as they're done, so they're not beta'd or anything.

Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome as always.


	4. What is it with Girls in Boxes?

Title: What is it With Girls in Boxes?

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game.

Summary: Prompt 027. Fear

**AN:** Thank you all so much for reviewing. Your support really does help me get off my ass and write.

"Why in the hell couldn't they have just locked the gorram thing?" Jayne grunted as he and the captain continued to saw on the front of the box, which they had placed facing up.

The box was maybe four feet long, but only about a foot and a half wide and deep. It had two rectangular protrusions extending from its front, one on the lid, another where the lid would close on the box. They had a hole that was designed to fit a padlock through it. These had been welded together, along with a good portion of the front of the box, sealing the lid to the bottom.

"I guess them as put her in there weren't looking for her to get out," Mal answered on the box's other side, holding the other end of the tree saw (one of their 'gifts') that they were currently moving back and forth on the welded seal.

The doc, having been roused from his brief sleep, was off on the other side of the area outside of the infirmary where they had carried the box, and preparing what few medical supplies they had left. He had taken another stimulant and was currently alert enough to perform his duties, though he had warned them it would only last another two or three hours. Taking another dose afterwards was out of the question; his heart was already almost fibrillating.

"At least they didn't seal the whole thing," Simon said, "She would have asphyxiated by now."

"Yeah, 'cause then we would missed out on all this fun," Jayne responded as he and the captain finally got past the padlock extension and down to the weld on the lid.

"It's set up," Kaylee said, as she and Zoe brought out the stretcher from the infirmary to set it on the floor next to Simon.

"Good," he replied, "Has everything been disinfected properly?" he asked, as stood up, gloves and apron donned.

Zoe nodded, "Everything's ready." Kaylee picked up the Simon's tray and stood next to him as Zoe went over to where the captain and Jayne had paused in their sawing.

"Looks like we're almost through," Mal said examining the box, "Zoe," he said looking at her.

She nodded and picked up her shotgun. She moved a few feet off and cocked it, then pointed it at the box.

Mal nodded to Jayne and they resumed their work. A minute later the saw slipped down and inch. They were through.

Mal and Jayne set the saw on the couch and picked up their weapons. Mal nodded to Jayne, and they kicked the lid down.

At first all Mal saw were chains and dried blood. Then he noticed hands, bare feet, and the fact that they were bound together.

He followed the arms bound behind the person up to the red, blood matted hair on the back of a head that was crammed into the corner of the box, the neck at an extreme angle.

"Jayne," Mal said putting his gun away. The bent down and reached inside. The half-inch chains wrapped around the person scraped against the sides as they pulled the girl out, and turned her over.

Kaylee gasped from somewhere behind Mal, but he barely heard her. The girl in front of him looked a good deal worse than most of the reaver victims he had recently seen. Shreds of clothes stuck to her front, plastered brown and red with old and fresh blood. The chains she was wrapped in bit into her arms, legs, and chest. They pressed down on motleys of bruises, and various exposed wounds, most of which seemed to have been caused by knives, though a few by teeth and nails. At least two holes, one in an arm and the other in her side, caused by bullets were sluggishly seeping blood.

He noticed her left arm looked burned, probably from when the box was welded. There were two locks holding the chains together located at her throat, which looked like it had narrowly escaped being completely slit. He checked her pulse as well as he could and noticed her slight breathing. He swiftly ordered Jayne to get the chain cutters, and carefully tilted her head back so Jayne could reach the locks.

He brushed the girl's hair aside as Jayne cut the locks, and finally got a look at the person they had rescued.

And then Mal's blood ran cold as looked down at the face of the one person in the 'verse that had ever truly terrified him.


	5. Lucy

Title: Lucy…

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 050. Devil

**AN2:** OK, so there are many fics out there that have Buffy meeting Mal, thinking he's Caleb, and then having to adjust to accepting that he's not. None of these ever seem to use the Mal/Caleb connection beyond, and I never really got why they didn't just right the story as if Mal and Caleb looked different; how hard is it to pretend that a different actor played Caleb? Anyway, since I wanted to do something different, I thought: why not have Mal recognize Buffy instead/also?

**AN:** Thank you all for reviewing. If you ever want to know what's going on in my RL and when more updates may be coming (or why they're not coming), check out my LJ. It's linked here under my homepage; I'll try to update it every week, even if all I say is "Nothing coming this week, too busy." After this, I probably won't put AN's in my fics; they're too long.

"Zoe…" Mal called slowly, then moved so she could see the woman's face that he held in his hands. Jayne started pulling on the chains none too gently, moving the body as he needed to unwrap her.

Zoe moved closer, keeping her gun trained on the girl. It took a moment for her to recognize the mottled face of the unconscious person before her.

"Sir," she breathed as her face blanched, "is that…?"

"Yes," he responded tersely, looking back down at her. Jayne was down to removing the chains about her legs.

Ignoring Kaylee and Simon's bursts of, "You know her?" Zoe continued addressing Mal, still staring at the girl, "She's supposed to be dead, Alliance executed her… they said… why would they lie?"

Jayne looked at her once he dumped the chains off to the side. He had never seen Zoe so shaken, her normal stoic stance gone as she stared with her mouth open at the girl.

"You two know her?" Jayne asked as he pulled out his knife and moved the girl over to her side so he could reach her roped hands and feet.

"Not exactly," Mal said as he got to his feet and backed up a step. He swallowed thickly, memories of things he'd tried to forget rushing back to him.

"She was a general in the Independent Army," Zoe answered for them both, regaining some of her equilibrium. "She commanded the militia for twelve worlds, and was the best guerilla warfare campaigner the Independence had. But some of her methods…" Zoe trailed off, an uneasy feeling apparent on her face, and her grip tightening on her gun.

Kaylee was looking bewilderingly between Mal and Zoe, and Jayne merely grunted as he finished freeing her from her ropes. "She's all yours doc," Jayne said as rolled the girl onto her back.

Simon however seemed to have realized who Mal and Zoe were talking about.

"The **Butcherer!**" Simon exclaimed. He looked at his patient with widened blood-shot eyes before taking a step back. His mouth hung open in shock for a few moments.

"That's what some called her," Mal admitted looking carefully at the doc.

"Butcherer?" Jayne said incredulously. He looked down at the skinny pile of bones and wounds at his feet. "She don't look like she could kill a beagle. 'Specially not now."

Simon blinked a few times as if trying to wake himself up before turning to Mal. "I'm not treating that – that…

Mal seemed to come out of his daze at that. "You'll treat who I tell you to, and you'll do it now."

Simon almost looked like he might try to argue, but Kaylee's hand on his arm stopped him. "Simon she's hurt. Now I don't know what everyone's goin' off about, but that girl got tore up by Reavers and locked in a box. Ain't no one deserve that, no matter what they done." Kaylee made Simon look at her. "You're a doctor, and doctors supposed to fix people that been hurt, and she's been hurt," she said with her usual straight-forward Kaylee-logic.

Simon swayed for a moment before coming back to himself. He turned back to the others. "Help me get her on the stretcher."


	6. You Got Some Splainin' To Do

Title: …You Got Some 'Splainen To Do

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 038. Legends

Three days had passed since they had left Tripon, three days in which Simon had done nothing more than sleep, eat, and check on his patient. As soon as he was feeling more like a human being, had shaved and eaten a mostly-decent meal, Kaylee had started askin' him questions about his patient.

Apparently the captain had been silent and moody on the whole subject, getting tetchy when she tried asking him questions. Zoe had remained silent on the matter as well, though anyone who looked at her face could see the worry etched there.

No one had been allowed in the infirmary. The captain kept the infirmary doors locked when Simon wasn't treating her, and both he and Zoe were present whenever he was.

And they were always armed.

Wash and Book seemed to know what got the two war veterans so jumpy. Wash because Zoe had probably told him the first day and Book because…

Well, Book always did seem to know a lot about a lot of things.

As for Jayne, well, seein' as how her bein' aboard wasn't leadin' to him gettin' sexed or paid, Jayne had pretty much decided to ignore the whole situation.

Kaylee and Inara had done some looking on the Cortex, but didn't find much more than what the Captain and Zoe had already said.

That and their mysterious guest's real name, though none of the histories they read gave an explanation for the nickname. At least not a true explanation; most just said that some of the things the Independents did during the war were probably what generated the "Reaver Myths."

Which was, in Inara's opinion, just propaganda unintentionally caused by ignorance of the truth of the reavers' existence.

Kaylee's opinion was much more vivid and not in English.

So Simon, finally aware enough to form a cogent thought, found himself the object of Kaylee's and Inara's curiosity.

Unfortunately, he didn't have an answer for them. He had lost a cousin in a battle during the middle of the war; he hadn't been told how she had died, but being the curious teenager he was back then, he had taken it upon himself to find out all the details.

He found out that she had been tortured to death. She and the rest of her crew had been transporting supplies when they had been attacked by one of the more savage factions of the Independents, led by an Independent general who had been dubbed "The Butcherer" for her exceptional viciousness and refusal to follow any civilized rules of wars, or of treating prisoners. They said no one could ever really prove her crimes, because she never left witnesses alive.

Of course, he hadn't been one to question things back then, had no reason not to believe anything the Alliance said was true. Now that he knew of the reavers' existence, and of the Alliance's ability to commit heinous acts, he was a lot more skeptical of anything they said being true. Something he had not been able to remember when he first realized who Mal had pulled out of that box, burned out as he was.

Now, he was awake, clean, fed, and wanted answers just as much as Kaylee. If this woman wasn't the monster that the Alliance claimed to be, then who was she? Why was she alive when all the records clearly indicated she had died nearly eight years ago?

So he had gone to Mal, who apparently had simply been waiting for him to be up and about so he wouldn't have to explain everthing twice.

"Well ya could a just said so, cap'n," had been Kaylee's irritated response.

Now everyone was gathering in the dining room, finding their seats around the table as Simon sat River down and Mal went to get himself a cup of coffee.

"So tell us again how is it that sad sack in the infirmary is a livin legend that ain't suppose ta be living," Jayne spoke up as soon as he had grabbed a chair, "and how is it that she's supposed to be one of the most feared killers in the 'verse, 'cause that just ain't makin' no sense."

Mal silently poured his coffee.


	7. Smells, Pains, Sights, and Sounds

Title: Smells, Pains, Sights, and Sounds

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 008. Illness

**AN:** For Author's note, see my live journal.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The first thing that Buffy became aware of when she regained consciousness was the smell.

No matter how far she traveled, or how many years passed, the smell of disinfectant and illness that all hospitals seemed to have remained the same.

The next thing that broached her awareness was pain.

Along with a side of thirst with a heaping dash of nausea.

When she opened her eyes, the hospital guess was confirmed by the tell-tale lighting and the color and shape of the walls and ceiling.

She slowly sat up, groaning as every nerve in her body protested the movement, and began to examine her surroundings.

The room was too small, and too decrepit, to be a hospital. A glance out the windows, and the sound of the distinctive hum of an engine in the background, and Buffy knew she was in the infirmary of a space ship. Probably small transport.

Her bare feet touched the floor and she fought of a wave of nausea while getting her bearings and assessing her condition.

She was pretty bad off. From the looks of her arms and legs, she had probably lost about ten pounds. Something that her already too skinny body couldn't really afford. The cracked ribs were still agonizing, but she could tell they were already on their way to healing up. The various open wounds on her skin had that tight, stretched feeling that told her they were closed and mending.

She would live. Not that she particularly wanted to at the moment.

A quick glance around didn't show any water set up for her in case she woke. There weren't any clothes lying around either, so she figured she'd have to make do with the baggy brown prairie dress someone had put her in.

It was that thought that finally fully woke her up as her brain finally _really_ realized and remembered what had happened.

The reavers. The chains. The villagers. The box.

She was wearing the brown sack because her clothes had been too far gone to salvage.

_She_ had been too far gone to salvage; or so she had thought. Someone had taken her out of the box. Cleaned her up. Patched her up.

She turned to the closed door leading out of the infirmary. Whoever ran this ship had saved her.

How and why were two very pressing questions that she would need answers to, and soon.

But not now. Now she needed water. And food. And some other type of garment, because honestly, whoever had put her in this thing, hell, whoever had looked at this monstrosity and paid _actual money_ for it, needed a serious beating.

The dress Buffy had been _buried_ in had been prettier than this, she thought with disgust as she pulled the waist of the dress a good two feet away from her body. Which was quite a feat seeing as how that had been the ugliest thing she ever remembered wearing.

Why was it that when other people dressed her, they picked the ugliest things they could find?

She briefly glanced at the cabinets that lined the walls of the infirmary, but decided that the odds of them holding pants and t-shirts were about the same as the odds of them containing a stash of turkey sandwiches and iced lemonade.

The door it was then.

It took a little while to wobble over to the exit, cursing her weakness as she did, only to find that the door had been locked.

From the outside.

Well, that was ominous. But whoever was in charge hadn't had her chained to the bed, so that was a plus.

It took a few tries, but she managed to break the lock and wrench the door open. Good to know she still had some of her slayer strength still working, even if it was at a mewling-beaten-kitten level instead of its usual roaring-enraged-cougar state.

At this point in her life, she'd learned to take what she could get.

The living area near her looked worn and lived in. Homey, even. Another point she chalked up to being of-the-good.

Then she heard muffled voices. She eventually pinpointed them to be coming from above her, probably on the next upper level of this ship.

To sneak around, or to not sneak around, that was the question.

Another glance at the hand-embroidered flowers that someone had put on the worn, patched throw pillows, and Buffy decided she'd take her chances asking for help.

Anyone who could live with a pillow that had a teddy bear, and the phrase, "I heart strawberries" on it couldn't be that bad.

Climbing up the stairs proved to be a rather difficult chore. Several of her leg muscles that had been slashed and torn weren't through healing yet, and they weren't happy with her trying to use them. On the bright side, her slow pace made her approach quiet, and it went unnoticed by the people in the room she was heading towards.

Which meant she got to hear what they were saying.

Which was especially useful as they appeared to be discussing her.

Apparently they knew who she had been during the war, or something of who she was, and they were all gathering around waiting for the captain to show up and explain the details.

How they had recognized her, after all the trouble she had gone through to be dead and disappeared, and why this 'captain' was supposed to know about her, brought back the apprehension she had first felt when she realized they locked her in the infirmary with a wave of nausea. She leaned heavily against the wall to still her gut and wait for the flashing lights in front of her eyes to disappear.

'Teddy bear pillows,' she reminded herself. They had still gotten her out of the box and doctored her up; there was still a chance she wouldn't have to kill them all.

It had gotten quiet where the people were gathered, and Buffy resumed her trek through the hallway toward the light. If she didn't get some water and food soon, she'd probably pass out. She didn't want to find out if they'd chain her to the infirmary bed once they found she broke the lock.

"So tell us again how is it that sad sack in the infirmary is a livin legend that ain't suppose ta be living," she heard a rough voice speak as a chair dragged across the floor "and how is it that she's supposed to be one of the most feared killers in the 'verse, 'cause that just ain't makin' no sense."

Teddy bear pillows. Teddy bear pillows.

Besides, she wasn't about to try going back down those stairs, and the hallway only went in one other direction.

She turned a corner and found a three-way intersection. One led straight forward into another set of hallways; the one on the left went off straight to what looked like the cockpit; and the doorway ahead of her and to her right was streaming light and the smell of coffee, and Buffy realized that the ship's crew must have gathered in the kitchen.

"I take it that y'all have done some diggin' yourselves." Another male voice, tinged with familiarity; Buffy went out on a limb and decided that this might be the captain.

A split second later the familiarity of the captain's voice zinged through her memory, and rang with a clear ding as it landed on where she had heard that voice before.

Buffy sighed heavily with dread and memory as she closed her eyes and leaned her fragile frame against the cold wall outside the kitchen.

Well, that answered that question.


	8. Story Telling and Point Scoring

Title: Story Telling and Point Scoring

Author: Beneficia

Rating: TV-PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 036. Past

AN: Lots of dialogue and exposition in this chapter. Tell me what y'all think about the characterizations. Zoe's voice is hard to write. Probably 'cause she doesn't talk all that much.

"I take it that y'all have done some diggin' yourselves," Mal said, as he poured himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, back to everyone at the table.

"Yes," Inara replied, "but there's not much on her in the records. She only served in the war for two years, and wasn't considered a major player till near the end of her life. Or what was supposed to be the end. There's no background information to speak of, and most of what's in her war record is…" here she faltered, "well, we're quite sure that most of it is, at least, ignorantly biased, and the rest seems to be mostly conjecture."

"We don't think she did all the horrible stuff that–" Kaylee began as Mal walked back over, "But you've been waitin' for me and Zoe to lay out the facts," he finished as he sat down at the head of the table.

Everyone looked at Mal expectantly.

"Zoe?" he looked at his first mate.

"Sir?"

"Why don't you go ahead an' tell 'em what you know," he asked. She looked at him quizzically, and he elaborated, "I never was much for listening to horror stories and rumors around the camp fires. You probably know the tale better'n I do."

Zoe looked like she either didn't believe or agree with the captain, but she started anyway.

"The Independents didn't call her 'The Butcherer'." Zoe began, turning to the crew. "We called her the Slayer. Though I suppose the only difference between the titles is semantics. She wasn't an official officer of the Independent army, but was a … freelancer, if you will. She waged guerrilla warfare on Alliance supply and troop routes, would raid encampments, steal information… it was believed she either had a large number of spies among the Alliance, or had leverage that allowed her to blackmail Alliance officers."

"She was also an amazing assassin. She killed more Generals and high-ranking Alliance officers than any other five people I've ever heard of."

Zoe began to look a little uneasy, but Mal picked up the story "The last two years of the war, we could feel we were losing. Morale was low, desertion startin' to become a problem. It was also about that time that the reavers starting popping up, taking out settlements on the Rim. Most soldiers didn't see any reason to stay in a war they couldn't win, while leaving their families unprotected from raping cannibals. So they left."

Mal took another sip of his coffee, and Zoe picked the thread back up.

"Until one day – the way the story goes – a woman shows up at the battle of New Lawrence, breaks into the Alliance camp, assassinates every officer of a rank higher than Lieutenant, steals what basically amounts the most valuable intel the Independents could never hope to get, and gets away without so much as a graze. She waltzes through the defense screens of both the Alliance and Independence, breaks into the Independence camp, and drops the information on the Independents laps."

"She tells the brass that everyone still on that moon in three days will die, and that if they want to save their soldiers' lives, they'll forfeit the ground to the Alliance. Tells 'em to come back in a week; says the Alliance will be gone, and they can get the valley scot-free."

"She gets away from the MPs taking her in for questioning, escapes the Independence camp, and disappears."

"Sounds like a pretty tall tale, you ask me," said Jayne. "Ain't no one can do that."

"She did." Mal replied with certain finality.

"Three days later, a reaver armada attacks New Lawrence," Zoe continued ignoring the crew's reactions. "They somehow managed to get past both sides' EMP shielding, and within two days had killed or captured everyone in that area. Six days after the Slayer had showed up, the reavers left. Exactly one week after she delivered her warning, the Alliance officially announces New Lawrence lost to the Independence."

"The story spread pretty quickly after that, and the next time she showed up at an Independent encampment and said reavers were coming, they listened."

Zoe looked at Simon before continuing, "The Independence brass never really liked her, most of the troops were afraid of her, and no one knew how the hell she was able to predict reaver raids. But we were losing, and as long as the end result was dead Alliance and living Independents, they were willing to turn a blind eye as to the how."

"She could control reavers?" Inara asked, disbelievingly, even as Kaylee opened her mouth to voice the same thing.

"Not control," Zoe asserted while Mal just stared into his cup, "as far as what I heard that was actually believable, she was able to look at reports of raids made on settlements and ships, and determine from where they had been, where they were going to be. She told the Independents when and where not to be, and…" here Zoe looked down at the table, where Wash's hand was holding hers, "…and once various militias elected her their general, after fleeing their worlds that had been targeted by reavers, she staged ways to put the Alliance in the way of the reavers; making them alter their supply routes or troop deployments so that they'd intercept raiding parties, using decoys to anger and draw the reavers to the Alliance."

"So she did do those things," Simon interrupted, "She may not have committed the acts directly –"

Mal interrupted. "The Alliance had no business out on the Rim. If we weren't so busy trying to fight them off, we would have directed our attention to protecting ourselves from the reavers. As far as I'm concerned, the reavers were going to attack somebody, and since we couldn't stop them, and the Alliance **wouldn't let us** stop them, havin' them go after fully armed and trained Alliance soldiers instead of defenseless women and children was as much as the Alliance deserved. And as many reavers died as Alliance that year. I dare say the Slayer did what she did to kill them as much as Alliance."

"How'd she get that name, anyway?" Kaylee asked, hoping to defuse the situation between Simon and the Captain before things got heated.

"The way I first heard it, it's how she introduced herself to the Independence brass," Zoe picked up the thread, distracting Mal and the doctor, "Of course, there are a lot of stories about her, and how she got that title. I heard some people claim that she did control the reavers. Most of those stories said that she was a reaver, or had been born to them and somehow got civilized later. I even heard one tale saying that she created them and that –"

"…And that I'm a seven-foot-tall Viking-esque angel sent by God himself to send Purple-bellies to hell," a squeaking, hoarse voice interrupted behind Simon. Everyone jerked their heads to look at the doorway leading to the bridge, while several guns were drawn. The woman in question was leaning wearily against the door frame, her brown dress scrunching up where her shoulder met the frame.

"I can also shoot fireballs from eyes, and lightning bolts from my ass," she added dryly.

"Though, that's just what the Independents said," her hoarse voice continued, "According to the Alliance, I was either an inbred, mutated, half alien intent on the destruction of the human race," she paused to catch her breath, "or the antichrist, intent on destroying the human race," she finished with a sigh. "It really depended on whether the person you asked was religious or not," she mused as her gaze wandered around the kitchen.

"How…?" Simon started to ask as continued twisting in his seat to stare at her. Kaylee looked horrified. Whether by the fact that she was staring at a possible mass-murderer, or by the fact that she had been caught talking about someone behind their back, was a toss-up. Mal's expression was positively unreadable, but Buffy knew that his gun was drawn and aimed at her under the table. Zoe and Jayne's guns were aimed at her from above the table, though she could tell they were both spooked by her appearance.

Time for cute and harmless Buffy to make an appearance.

"Your infirmary door lock is broken," she answered Simon's unspoken question conversationally as her eyes settled on the kitchen. "Water?" she rasped, her face turning towards Simon with all the pitifulness she could muster.

He was out of his chair and headed for the sink before she could blink.

Score one for Buffy.

"And was that lock broken before, or after, you broke it?" This came from the captain, but Buffy already knew he couldn't be played. Though from the way their discussion had been going, it seemed he had grown up some since she had last seen him. He appeared to have no intention of letting the others in his crew know the actual truth behind all the stories. Not that he knew the full truth about her anyway.

Simon was back with a glass of water with a speed that would make Indy pit crews envious, and was guiding her over to his chair, with quiet admonishment that she shouldn't be up, before Buffy could process her response.

She took a long, slow sip of water while allowing Simon to help maneuver her toward the table, before answering.

"I went to open the door, and it opened," she said as she reached the chair, idly noting that Zoe and Jayne's guns were lowering. Mal hadn't moved and she realized he probably only let her get closer so he had better aim. "It's not my fault if your ship's falling apart," she groaned out as Simon got her seated, with much wincing on both their parts.

"Hey!" came the angry shout from whom Buffy had assumed was Kaylee. From the angry and indignant looks from everyone else, it was the wrong thing to say.

"Umm… she's falling apart gracefully?" She tried, unsuccessfully, to defuse their anger. From the way Kaylee seemed about to start a rant on how her ship was the finest in the 'verse, it wasn't working.

"Look, I'm in a lot of pain right now, and I just had a really bad day…" Buffy interrupted quickly. Kaylee seemed to be torn between being angry at her and being sorry for her, so Buffy knew the pitiful approach was the right one. "…and I'm really thirsty, and strangers are pointing guns at me…" here she let her voice wobble just a bit, noticing with satisfaction Jayne and Zoe lowering their guns ever further, though Mal's eye starting to tick just a fraction, "… and then your Captain starts yelling at me for hurting his ship, when all I wanted was to find a glass of water." She allowed her eyes to tear up for effect, and her posture to reflect an absolutely dejected and miserable appearance. Something she found easier to do than normal, as she was feeling quite wretched.

"I wasn't yelling," Mal asserted loudly and angrily, even as Kaylee went "Oh, sweetie," and got up to go comfort Buffy.

"Don't you mind the cap'n none," Kaylee said, as she awkwardly tried to stroke Buffy's bandaged shoulder without hurting her, "He's just a mean horrible monster who yells at everybody for no reason." Kaylee directed her formidable glare squarely at Mal.

Score two.

Simon interrupted their glaring contest by bringing everyone's attention back to his patient's medical condition, "She should not be up. I need to get her back to the infirmary."

"She ain't goin' nowhere until I get some answers," Mal asserted forcibly.

"She's in no condition to…" Simon began, even as Kaylee shouted "Captain!", as if shocked he would do such a thing, and Zoe softly queried, "Captain?"

"Bi zuai!" Mal shouted, "Kaylee, sit down. Simon, you too. Answerin' a few simple questions ain't gonna kill your patient, especially if'n I get straight answers real quick," he said pointedly in Buffy's direction. She buried her face in her cup and finished her water while everyone got seated again. He nodded to Zoe, and to Buffy's surprise, holstered his pistol. Zoe and Jayne followed suit.

"Now, why don't you tell us why those nice crazy valley folk chained you up in a box and threw you on my boat?" Mal ordered. "And while you're at it, you might wanna tell us how it is that you ain't dead."

Buffy sighed tiredly; this had not been her best week ever.

"All I did was warn them that the reavers were coming," Buffy began. Mal and Zoe's storytelling had actually made explaining easier, and allowed her to come up with something plausible on the fly. "A few listened; they got themselves armed and set up a way to take down their ship. The rest thought I had finally cracked. When the reavers came, we were prepared enough to fight back. Even those who had thought I was crazy had armed themselves anyway, 'just in case'. I guess I really freaked them out with my whole, 'The-sky-is-falling' bit. Once the reavers were dead, an argument about whether I was a witch or a prophet ensued, and I guess they figured they'd do a 'throw-her-in-the-river-and-see-if-she-drowns' kinda test." From the looks on their faces, Buffy could tell they hadn't got the references. "Look, the magistrate never liked me anyway," she said leaning forward and putting her arm on the table. "I guess he saw this as a way of getting rid of me without having to directly murder me, while keeping face with the rest of the town. You guys just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. Can I go now? I'm tired." She let her shoulders drop a fraction more.

"And how you ain't dead?" Mal pressed. Buffy glared at him weakly, before focusing her eyes on the lamp in the middle of the table. "The Alliance thought that I had useful information on the Independents, and that I had stolen a lot of **their** useful information during various raids. Which, I'll admit, was completely true." She licked her cracked lips nervously. "I also think that they thought I had somehow obtained information that might be damaging to their government should it go public. That wasn't true, but they didn't know that. When I was captured, it went public. They couldn't hide that they had me. The war had officially ended the week before, and they had no good reason for needing to keep me for interrogation. The public was crying for the swift trials and executions of Independent 'War Criminals', and they knew I was too infamous to slip under the radar. So they staged an 'attempted escape' in which I was 'regrettably' shot, and transferred me somewhere they could torture me for as long as they wanted. I escaped. Fled out to the rim and lied low." Buffy finished as she looked up at Mal.

"They didn't try to find you?" Simon asked.

Buffy snorted. "I was **dead**. They couldn't very well put up a warrant on the cortex. There may not have been that many pictures taken of me, but there were enough for people to put two and two together if the plastered my face on the most wanted list. And they couldn't start a manhunt for someone they couldn't give a description of. Besides…" Buffy took a deep breath and looked at the faces around the table, "I was tired. There wasn't anything left to fight for, even if I still wanted to fight. It wasn't in their best interest to inform the public they'd been lied to by their government just to catch someone who probably wasn't going cause them any trouble anyway. As long as I stayed off their radar, I figured they wouldn't try too hard to find me." Buffy slouched back into her chair. "I've mostly just been wandering these last few years, doing mercenary work. A few months ago I ended up on Tripon." Buffy shrugged. "You guys know the rest."

"How'd you escape the Alliance?" Mal continued pressing.

"Does it matter?" Buffy shot back. "Look, I'm unarmed, severely injured, and I don't know how to fly this ship. So even if I wanted to murder you all in your sleep and take over, I can't. I'm hungry, I need to pee, and my throat's about to start bleeding from all this talking, so either feed me or shoot me, but do it before I pass out so I know whether or not to expect to wake up again." She shoved herself further down in her chair, and then winced as back protested.

"Captain," Simon interjected, standing up from his seat, "I must insist I get Miss Hamill back to the infirm–"

"Buffy," the person in question spoke up. Everyone's eyes turned to her. "My name. It's Buffy. Buffy Summers."

"Your file says Dorothy Hamill," said the guy dressed as a Sheppard.

A fleeting grin appeared on Buffy's face for a moment before she winced from pulling on her facial cuts. "Yeah, well," Buffy said, groaning as Simon helped her up from the table, "I never had much input on the making of those things. Besides, I'd thought you guys already realized that everything in there is crap anyway. Why should my name be accurate?"

With that, Simon guided her around, and began walking her back to the doorway.

"This ain't over." Mal called after her, surprisingly without any threat in his voice. But then, he had been surprising her a lot today.

"It never is," Buffy whispered.


	9. Two by Two

Title: Two by Two

Author: Beneficia

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

Spoilers: Everything that's aired so far is fair game

Summary: Prompt 091. Examine

**AN: She's alive! SHE'S ALIVE!!** Yes, I updated. For those of you even remotely interested in where I've been, what I've been up to, and when you can expect the next update, check my LJ.

oOoOoOoOo

**Chapter Nine**

"Do you think we should break out the mato paste?" Kaylee asked as she stared at the cupboard with intensity.

"What's the occasion?" Book asked over his shoulder as he started slicing the protein.

"Well," Kaylee began slowly as she turned back to him, "this is Buffy's first meal aboard, and I thought maybe we could give her a proper welcome."

"You mean unlike the welcome she got earlier from the captain," Book responded as he turned around to wash his hands.

"Yes, unlike the captain earlier," she replied, shutting the cupboard forcefully and walking by him to another cabinet.

"Mal had questions that needed answering, Kaylee, and considering her past I think he was rather lenient."

"The captain didn't hafta to be so pushy," Kaylee cut him off as she got out the plates. "Everybody's got a past. Some worse 'n others, true, but he ain't exactly a saint himself. We don't go nosing into his past. Don't nobody ever talk about the war 'less he or Zoe bring it up. And Buffy was hurt. Bad." She emphasized as she laid the plates out on the table, "By reavers. And then those huh _choo-shung tza-jiao duh tzang-huo_ chain her up and…"

Kaylee trailed off, staring at the lamp on the table. Book watched her silently, waiting for her to finish.

She raised her head and looked at him across the table, her eyes misting "Cap'n and Jayne had to pull real hard to get her out, she was wedged so tight. All 'cause she tried to save them from reavers, when most people woulda run as far away as they could."

Kaylee went back to setting out utensils. "Don't matter what she done before," she said, "Everybody should get a second chance." She stared hard at the Shepherd, "Don't the good book teach that? People deserve forgiveness and a clean slate?"

Book looked like he was thinking about something painful for a second before his face cleared and he smiled, "We don't deserve it. But God gives it to us anyway."

Kaylee smiled softly back at him and then her expression turned impish, "So… tomato paste?"

Shepherd Book chuckled.

oOoOoOoOo

"Don't trust her. No matter what you do, do not ever let you're guard down around her."

Zoe was in lecture briefing mode, pacing back and forth on the bridge. Wash sat silently in the pilot seat, experience keeping him from interfering with her fretting.

Not that he would ever call it fretting to her face.

"Don't let yourself be in a room alone with her. Cap'n won't let her go anywhere without him, me or Jayne there, but for whatever reason, if we're not there, leave. Don't turn your back on her. And DON'T talk to her."

Zoe stopped to pin Wash with a glare. "I can't tell you how many stories of her start off with her flirting with dumb guards or even dumber Alliance brass, and end with decapitated corpses."

"Gotcha," Wash responded smartly, "she can also kill me with her vocal cords."

Zoe stilled and glared. "I'm being serious, honey."

"Oh, I'm taking it seriously, lamby toes" he replied turning to the console and setting the controls, "I'm all with seriousness of the situation. Especially when there's such colorful backstories involved. I'm particularly fond of the one where the Independents used REAVERS to fight the Alliance, 'cause hey!" He turned his head around at her, "It's not like you forgot to mention that part. Oh wait!" He said in mock shock. Wash turned back to the console.

Zoe pursed her lips, "You don't want to go down this road with me," she said low and dangerous.

"You know what," Wash said as slapped the controls on autopilot and stood up to face, "you're right. I don't want to go down the road where you LIE to my face when I ask – "

"I never lied."

"You omitted more than half the story! Completely left out – "

"I didn't know anything for certain, and I wasn't about to start – "

"Then tell me that!"

"I didn't know how much Mal wanted to tell the crew!"

Silence.

Wash could tell by the look on her face that she knew she had said the wrong thing, but at that moment, he just couldn't care.

"Right," Wash said softly, "because **Mal** makes the decisions on what you tell your **husband**."

"Wash," Zoe began trying to undo the damage.

The intercom crackled with Kaylee's voice, "Dinner's ready. We made chili and rolls, and you best come get it while it's hot."

Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but Wash cut her off.

"All you had to do was not tell me anything," he said softly, "just say 'I don't want to talk about it," or even, "I don't want to tell you what Mal doesn't want the rest of the crew to know.' Even that I could have lived with, because at least it would have been honest."

Wash turned around and headed towards the door. Zoe didn't say anything as he opened it up and walked down the hallway to the mess.

oOoOoOoOo

"T'aint natural," Jayne said as he spat on his knife and rubbed it, while keeping his eye on the infirmary.

He and the doc's sister were sittin' out in the livin' area. Crazy, 'cause she was waitin' on her brother, him 'cause Mal had told him to keep an eye on their psychotic new guest.

And Jayne was startin' to get uncomfortable with the amount of crazy girls-in-boxes that this crew was pickin' up, even if one left out the former Mrs. Reynolds.

If one more skinny little waif popped out of Serenity's cargo, Jayne was leaving, private bunk or no private bunk.

"Statistical odds cannot be applied to intelligent intervention. Its very existence absolves the random and creates a new paradigm. Boards are cleaned. A new discipline must emerge."

Speakin' a' crazy.

River tilted her head in Jayne's direction, looked him the eye utterly serious, and said,

"Bunnies procreate exponentially."

She then turned her gaze back to the infirmary and went back to sleepily watching her brother work, leaving Jayne staring at her with the expression the crew knew he generally reserved just for River. It was a cross between his "What the gorram hell?" face, and his, "That ain't contagious is it?" face."

He shook it off and began sharpening his knife, occasionally glancing in the direction of the doc and his eerie-ass patient.

"Little girl lost," River began. Gorramit. Girl did not know how to keep her mouth shut.

"The paradigm was swept from under her feet. The sky fell and rivers flowed rocks. Sun hid his face and Moon bled her tears." River shook her head, and her voice became distraught, "wasn't enough. Kings and empires and races, mighty and great and stupid. Thinking it mattered. Thinking they mattered. One choice."

River looked at Jayne, her eyes glassy and distant "One choice, insignificant and petty, made by a being, insignificant and petty. The world fell, universe stumbled. The stars gasped."

River stopped talking, but remained staring at Jayne for a long moment. He had paused in the middle of sharpening his knife, the blade lying still against the whetstone mid-stroke.

They remained like that until Jayne broke the silence. "Girl," he began, "I known a lotta unsavory folk in my day, but I never met someone as eerie-assed disturbin' as you. Now, I get that your head's made of scrambled _tsway-niou_, but so help me, if you do not stop talkin' to me –"

"You're a boob," River stated succinctly, and went back to staring at the infirmary.

"And you're a _fong luh puo-foo_, but so long as you keep quiet while you're at, I guess I can live with it." Jayne set the whetstone down, hacked up a ball of phlegm, and went back to cleaning his knife.

"It's her turn anyway," River said quietly, but Jayne ignored her.

oOoOoOoOo

"How much longer?" Buffy hoarsely whined at the Doctor. Kaylee and the Sheppard were in the galley fixing supper for everyone, and Buffy had been promised a meal after Simon finished checking her over.

"Don't talk," Simon said forcibly for the dozenth time. "Your throat is still very raw, and you've already stretched the stitches near to breaking." He sighed as he continued replacing bandages on her torso, "I don't know how you're even able to make coherent sounds with a wound that deep. The captain should never have …"

"Oh please, it's nowhere near as bad as you're making it," Buffy protested, even as she fought the urge to cough, and swallowed the bloody taste in her mouth.

"Don't. Talk."

Buffy bit back a retort, and just watched the doctor as he went around to the other side of the table and began unbuttoning the dress under her right arm to check the bullet wound there. Apparently, the ugly ass dress from hell had been chosen for its numerous openings that allowed Simon access to almost every major wound on her torso, while letting her keep the rest of herself covered. She guessed it was rim equivalent of a hospital gown. At least it didn't give everyone a view of her ass.

"You tore several stitches going up those stairs," Simon brought her out of her musing. "I need to make sure you didn't hurt anything else before I re-stitch your legs," he continued as he pulled of a large white bandage off her side, a prominent reddish brown spot in the middle. "It will take a few minutes, and besides" he began applying a fresh bandage, "It was time to change most of these anyway."

Buffy continued listening to him half-heartedly as she watched two of the ship's crew watch her.

The doctor's sister and the mercenary were sitting in the living area outside the infirmary, talking and occasionally stealing glances at her. Well, the merc was talking and trying not to look like he was looking at her. The sister was openly staring at her with this half-homicidal, half-about-to fall-asleep look that Buffy had seen enough times before to be wary of.

"Your sister's wigging me out."

Simon stopped applying tape and glanced out the door. "She's … different," he hedged as he turned back to treating Buffy. "River's a very special girl; she just… experiences things differently than the rest of us. She sometimes says or does things that don't make sense, so if she asks you if you'll preside over her feet's marriage…" he gave Buffy a fleeting smile, "she doesn't mean any harm by it. She usually keeps to herself, so you shouldn't have any problems while you're on board."

Buffy thought about that for a moment. Simon had finally finished examining her torso, and had moved on to fixing the stitches on her thighs. The doctor's sister – River – was still sitting utterly still and staring at Buffy in that extremely creepifying way.

And Simon hadn't told her to not talk.

That realization had her looking at the Doctor again. Examining his face and trying to remember why he and his sister seemed familiar.

He continued on with his work for several minutes, oblivious to her examination of him.

Buffy chose her words carefully.

"You're a good doctor."

"Uh, well thank you," he answered, looking slightly perturbed, before turning back to her legs. He was applying the bandages now.

"No I mean really good," she continued as she let her gaze wander around the infirmary, "tools are clean and ordered, got a nice bedside manner, stitch-work is excellent, and believe me," she added emphasis as she turned head back to look at him directly, "I know the difference between good stitching and bad stitching."

"Okay." He knew this was going somewhere, but couldn't figure out where.

"So what'd she do?" Buffy asked conversationally before taking a sip of water from the cup beside her.

"_Shuh muh?_" Simon asked as he started piling up used bandages on a tray.

"What did your sister do?" Buffy clarified after she swallowed. "How come such a nice doctor like you is working on a ship like this, for what I'm guessing is room and board, instead of some ritzy core hospital, making assloads of money?"

Simon had stopped working. "Look, I don't know what –"

"And how come," Buffy marched on, "the Alliance is offering enough money to make a life sized version of her out of platinum? 'Cause really, she doesn't look like she's worth that much."

oOoOoOoOo

"What are you going to do about her?"

"Honestly?" Mal responded, as Inara sat on the walkway as he took inventory, "I haven't rightly decided. Most like drop her off when we finally make it to Greenleaf."

"As wounded as she is?" Inara asked, "Mal she wouldn't last a day!"

"First, not my problem. Second, she can take care of herself." He turned his back to her and closed an open a crate of cattle feed, "I'd be more worried about the people on Greenleaf to tell the truth."

He turned around with a grin, "Of course, I could always space her before we get there."

Inara rolled her eyes, "Mal, I don't think she's going to start slaughtering innocents if you leave her on that moon. The only reason she's here now is because she was trying to help people."

"The only reason she's here now is because she's closer to a reaver than a person," Mal said, all humor gone, "you best not be forgetting that. No matter how civil she's playing, she's still a stone-cold killer, and it wouldn't bother her none to slit all our throats in our sleep." He walked over to the steps leading to her shuttle and went up them.

"You don't know that Mal, you said yourself that you never paid attention to rumors and speculation, and the only historical perspective of her is in the Alliance's point of view. You can't really know what she did or didn't do. Mal, she can barely walk. Simon had to carry her down the stairs!" She gracefully stood up to meet him, "And you know Jayne's more likely to try to kill us in our sleep than she is. He probably already has a plan on how in case he ever needs to."

"True!" Jayne hollered from the living area.

Inara rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, "You can't just drop her off on that _luh suh_ moon. Another transport ship willing take on passengers probably won't come around for another year, if that. She'll be stranded."

"Again, not my problem," he rebuffed moving past her to walk up the stairs.

"It is your problem, Mal. You took her on this ship –"

"She was thrown on at gun-point!"

"You have a responsibility to help her. You can't just throw a critically injured girl onto the first piece of dirt you can find –"

"She ain't a girl!"

"– and hope she lands upright on her broken feet –"

"They were only sprained, and it ain't my –"

"– with nothing but the clothes on her back –"

"You don't know her!" He snapped stopping his march at the walk intersection between her shuttle and the bridge. The cargo bay echoed with the silence that followed his statement.

"And you do?" Inara asked quietly.

Mal stared her down for a moment. "Don't tell me how to run my ship," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. He turned around to leave.

And walked into a pale Simon coming up the steps.

"We have a problem."


	10. Hands of Blue

Title: Hands of Blue

Author: Beneficia

Rating: FR-13

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all the stuff you recognize as his. I'm not making any money off of this. No copyright infringement is intended.

Spoilers: Everything for Buffy and Firefly.

Prompt 26: Money

oOoOoOoOo

"You think I'd turn you in for money?"

"You said that River was worth, what was it, assloads of money?" Simon answered from her right, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. Kaylee had barely set Buffy's tray of food down before Mal and the doctor had stormed in and brought the Spanish Inquisition.

"First off, I said core doctors make assloads of money," Buffy retorted hotly, swallowing the pain in her throat, and trying to keep the hoarseness out of her voice, "and secondly, just because I said she was worth that much to the Alliance doesn't mean I'd turn her in to those bastards, and did ever occur to you," Buffy continued her diatribe swiftly, "that maybe, just maybe, I only recognize your faces because I keep up with the Most Wanted list, just so I know if **I** ever pop up on it?!"

She finished her rant with a glare at Simon's profile.

"Then why'd you bring it up in the first place?" Malcolm asked from the doorway.

She rewarded him with an eye roll as she turned her attention to him, "Because I'm bored, and the reason why a sixteen-year old girl and her fancy-pants doctor brother are at the top of the Alliance's hit-list without a reason listed **has** to have a story behind it."

"Seriously," Buffy added as she turned back to Simon, "Either you have a tape of your sister being in a compromising sexual position with the Prime Minister, or she's a professional spy who stole state secrets for an insurgent movement you're the leader of. I'm currently leaning towards option one."

"What! No!" Simon exclaimed, as the Captain tried to hide his smirk and Jayne openly leered.

"Then you're the head of an insurgency?"

"No! Gah, where do you get this?" Simon asked, pushing himself off the counter.

"Some people monitor and speculate about the personal lives of politicians and celebrities. I speculate about the lives of the criminal and infamous," she said with a shrug. "And you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" Simon asked as he tried to wrap his head around Buffy's thought process.

"What, did, your, sister, do?" Buffy enunciated, lolling her head around to face Mal. "I'm not gonna rat you out, whatever it was," she directed at Mal.

"She didn't do anything," the captain answered after a thoughtful moment, "it's what the Alliance did her is why they're so keen to get her back."

"Captain!" Simon said shocked and looking to get angry.

"She knows you're on the run and what the reward is. Knowing why ain't gonna make a damn bit a difference, except letting her know how much trouble she'd be in should she ever let slip she ever met you. Besides," Mal added, "so long as you're on my boat, I decide who I tell what about you two. You don't like it, you're welcome to leave."

"You have no right to tell strangers our personal business –" Simon argued but was interrupted.

"It ain't personal business if it's splattered all over the gorram cortex. Either you tell her or I will," Mal said forcibly, and Buffy had to admit, watching these two guys fight was about the most entertaining thing she'd seen in months.

"Why are you so determined to tell someone who you don't even know, and who is probably a psychotic killer –"

"Hey!"

"–and who won't even be on the boat in a few weeks secrets that could get us caught!"

"Because if there's one gorram person in this verse who knows anything about Alliance secrets, and might be in a position to make your sister less crazy it'd be her!" Mal shouted, pointing at Buffy, as he got right in Simon's face.

What the hell were they talking about?

Mal continued, "because if there's people that know about whatever the hell it was the Alliance was trying to do, and if what you said about the ones who helped you break her out the Academy is true, then there is, odds are she'd know who they were or people who could find them." Mal took a breath, even as moved in closer, making Simon step back.

"Ain't no one in this verse that stole more classified Alliance documents during the war, and I'd lay odds there's something she knows that might help you and your sister out. And the next time I do something that you don't understand, you will not stay in the way until you get an explanation. So long as you're on my boat, you do as I say, when I say it. Dong ma?" Mal finished stepping back.

Simon waited a moment and then nodded.

"Good," Mal said, and then they turned to Buffy.

Who was looking at them with a face so blank and still, Simon had a moment's panic that she was dead, and then,"

"Did you say The Academy?" Buffy asked, her expression devoid of emotion, but her eyes intense on Simon.

Simon got a sinking feeling in his stomach, even as hope shot through his heart.

Mal just smirked, "Told ya."

oOoOoOoOo

"Her food's gonna get all cold," Kaylee said worriedly from the kitchen doorway as she stood staring down the hallway that led to the infirmary where Jayne and the Cap'n were interrogating Buffy. Again.

"It can be warmed up," Zoe said pragmatically from her seat at the table where the rest of the crew were eating.

"It ain't as good leftovers, and they could have damn well waited until Buffy got a hot meal in her. The poor girl's skinny as a rail, and hasn't eaten in days. They're being cruel for no reason," Kaylee protested angrily, not budging from her position at the door.

"She knows about Simon and River, Kaylee. And considering her past…" Inara began gently, but was interrupted by Kaylee whirling around on all of them.

"Of COURSE she knows about Simon and River. Their warrants are splattered all over the cortex, and anyone who even glances at the most wanted would remember 'em. Buffy's on the run from the Alliance! Don't you think she'd keep up with that in case her face ever popped up?" Kaylee scolded them stridently.

Zoe frowned. Kaylee was getting awfully protective of the Slayer. That wasn't good. "Kaylee, it doesn't matter how she knows. What matters is what she'll do with that information. For all we know, she'd turn them in to secure her own freedom from the Alliance. Or use them as bait to get back at them. The Slayer's motives for doing what she did were never clear. We need to make sure she won't go to the feds once we drop her off. The captain's just trying to protect this crew," Zoe admonished her quietly.

Kaylee crossed her arms, and adopted the stubborn look on her face that everyone knew meant she wouldn't budge, "Cap'n coulda waited til after she'd eaten. I saw the way she was eyeing the tray 'fore the cap'n made me take it out. Girl woulda wolfed down the whole thing in less'n five minutes. He coulda waited five minutes."

Zoe simply went back to her meal. Arguing with Kaylee wasn't going to get her anywhere, and she already had one too many arguments on her hand. She looked at Wash next to her who was concentrating on his meal.

Wash, sensing the attention of an arguing woman turn toward him, spoke up quickly, "Hey, I just fly the ship," he said looking at Kaylee, "I have no opinion on this matter, I think everyone is entitled to food and interrogations equally, and I know nothing of motives, pasts, or food preparation. I'm in the dark on this whole matter," he said exaggeratingly as he turned to Zoe, "And apparently a lot of other things. Who knows what I might not know!" He proclaimed before turning his attention back to his food, ignoring everyone's stares at his outburst.

Zoe's eyes narrowed at him. Oh yeah, bedtime was gonna be _real_ fun tonight.

Book, as always, moved in to defuse the situation before things escalated, "I'm sure the Captain and Jayne won't be long, Kaylee," he said placatingly. "You know Jayne won't stand for missing out on a meal."

Kaylee just turned her back on them and went back to staring down the hallway.

oOoOoOoOo

"What do you know about the Academy?" Simon asked warily.

Buffy just kept looking at him with that intense, blank expression.

Then she turned to Mal, "That depends."

_Ching-wah TSAO duh liou mahng_!

"Depends on what?" Simon asked getting riled up, not noticing Mal's mirrored expression of anger.

"On what we're planning on giving her in exchange for the information," Mal answered for her.

Simon looked from Mal to Buffy, "You're going to extort us!"

Buffy's expression went back to bored and contemptuous. "Why is it that all doctors are either evil or stupid?"

She turned back to Mal, "I want two weeks to heal up, safe passage to Persephone or Alder, whichever one you're heading takes you close to, and all my belongings. Then I'll tell you everything you could ever want to know about the Academy."

"What belongings?" Jayne answered gruffly from Mal's right.

Buffy smiled, "You know. All the stuff the Tripon settlers put on board."

"_Tsway niou, _that ain't yours!" Jayne argued, tightening his hold on his gun.

Buffy ignored him, and kept her focus on Mal who was staring at her assessingly, even as Simon spoke up beside her, "How do we know you're not bluffing. You've been off the radar for years. Any information you might have on the Academy would be out of date. If you have any information at all," Simon ended accusingly.

Buffy rolled her eyes over to glare at him before turning her head toward River, who had been sitting quietly on the bed in the wall on Buffy's left. She was still staring at Buffy, though Buffy was starting to get used to it, and had been calm and complacent throughout the argument. Buffy stared back intently, until River broke her gaze and looked down at her hands that she was bringing up to examine in the blue light over her head.

Mal and Jayne who could see Buffy's profile, saw recognition flare before she quickly turned back to Simon.

"Has she ever mention men wearing blue gloves to you?" Buffy asked stridently.

What?

"What?" Jayne asked, mirroring Mal's thoughts.

"Blue gloves?" Simon answered, puzzled. "No, she hasn't. What do blue gloves have to do with anything?"

Buffy looked surprised for a moment. "Are you sure? She's never brought it up? A pair of men wearing blue gloves. Maybe after waking up from a nightmare, or –"

"I'd think I'd remember a conversation where men's glove fashion was the topic," Simon answered testily, and Mal said, "Darling, that girl's said a lot of crazy talk, but I don't reckon I recall her ever – "

"Two, by, two. Hands. Of. Blue."

Every head turned to River, still staring intently at her hands, her brow furrowing.

"Two, by two. Hand. Of blue."

Simon spoke up, looking dazed, "Except for that."

"Two by two. Hands of Blue," River was starting to look decidedly upset by then, and Simon went over to calm her down.

Mal's response was as eloquent as ever, "Huh."

"What the gorram hell does that mean?" Jayne asked looking spooked.

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Idiots."

She turned back to Mal. "It means that the Alliance has sent a very special type of agent after River," Buffy answered, "They wear blue gloves," Buffy held up two fingers, "And they only ever come in groups of two."

"Two by two…" River was still muttering from the corner, although Simon had calmed her down some, while still listening intently to Buffy.

"They're not something you've ever faced before, and they have more than one trick up their sleeves. The fact that River knows about them would be enough to have such a large bounty on her head, though if she came from the Academy, they have even more reason to want her back. If they're tracking her, they will find her. And when they do, they'll kill all of you before you even know they're there. Unless you know what you're up against."

Buffy looked pointedly at Mal, "Which you won't, unless I tell you."

"We could force it outta ya," Jayne said, his trigger finger itching.

Buffy gave him a smile that Jayne found positively creepifying, "Try."

"Doc," Mal said, "get your sister on up to the mess. Then help Kaylee bring Buffy her dinner," Mal turned and walked out the door, "Jayne, keep an eye on our guest."

"Hey, I gotta eat too!" Jayne hollered after Mal. He kept walking.

Buffy sighed tiredly as she closed her eyes and laid her head back. Mal would give her what she wanted, and she could move on without having to kill anyone here. She breathed in deeply, ignoring Jayne's loud grumbling. It was always a good thing in her book when she could move on to another world or ship without having to leave massive amounts of dead people behind her.

She'd done enough of that to last her lifetimes.

oOoOoOoOo


End file.
